The North's Defender
by lizard-senpai
Summary: Its origin is uncertain at best. A demon, created by blood magic and vengeful to all enemies of the North. One of the Old Gods, whose name has been lost to time. The Stranger's dog sent to make the Northern savages abide by the ways of the Seven through acts of goodwill. Whatever it is, only one thing is known; it has no master save the King in the North whose name is Stark.
1. Chapter 1

**1: The Beast His Father Summoned**

Ned was a child when he first saw him summoned. No more than seven and scared witless as he hid at Brandon's side, he watched and listened as his father murmur foreign words while painting a circle with his own blood on the snow covered floor of the Godswood. The weirwood trees watched on in solemn anticipation as Lord Rickard Stark summoned the spectre of his house. The air, already bitter with winter chill, seemed to steal the warmth from the lordling's furs. Brandon too was shivering, but unlike the younger of the brothers he did not seem keen to leave if the grin on his face was any indication. Fear was edging into every available piece of Ned's mind as the ritual continued before him. His father did not seem as he had been that morning, strong and solemn yet wholly dependable and safe. Now, it seemed as if he was a grim statue carved from stone, much like those in the crypt and the likeness unnerved the second son.

A shift in the breeze, his father's voice quieting, and suddenly everything fell still. His heartbeat, having mere moments before been racing madly, all but stopped completely. Not a thing could be heard, not even his older brother's breathing. It seemed as if life itself was taboo in face of the summoning.

Then, the leaves upon the ground began to shift within the circle Lord Stark had drawn. They swayed and rolled like running water, dancing in the designated area as their border seemed to glow. Wind returned to the Godswood but it was a vicious thing, beating against his exposed skin and biting at him with the intent to tear through his skin. It rushed through his ears so loudly that he felt as if any more exposure to it would surely deafen him.

Fire, icy blue and flickering with hazy images, sprang to life suddenly within the circle, leaping high into the darkening sky. Ned stumbled backwards at the sight of it, as did his brother, though the sound of the wind masked the crunch of dead foliage their sudden steps made. The fire blazed brilliantly for a moment before shrinking just as suddenly as it had been formed. In this moment, the deafening and brutal wind died as well.

In the circle stood a man.

He wore not but torn trousers, the pockets of which his hands were shoved into, but the man seemed to not notice the cold in any way. He was not tall and bulky in the way of northmen nor was he like any southron man Ned had seen before. The man summoned by his father was like a wraith, well muscled and certainly not short but lacking an imposing figure. Still, something about the man exuded a dangerous presence like Ned would imagine from a wild animal. His skin seemed grey, but the boy assured himself that that was nothing more than a trick of the poor lighting.

"You've summoned me, Stark," the man spoke in a nearly mocking tone. His voice was heavy with an accent the boy could not place and gravelly like it hadn't been used in quite some time. It was not an unfriendly tone but much like everything else about him it was subtly threatening.

"I have," his father said. The man grinned and Ned's blood froze like the snow and ice that surrounded them.

His mouth was filled with glittering, white fangs as sharp as any blade.


	2. Chapter 2

**2: The Monster That Ended Wars**

The second time Ned saw him was of his own doing when he had received news of his father and brothers deaths. He rushed straight to the weirwood of the Eyrie, his dagger already drawn so as to pour the blood needed for the ritual. His father had taught him the words needed to summon the Defender, just as he had taught Brandon and Lyanna and Benjen.

Hastily, almost sloppily, he cut into the flesh of his hand and made a haphazard circle amongst the leaves and dirt. Much like it did when he was a boy and Rickard Stark had summoned the monster for reasons he could not remember, once the words were said the wind howled and leaves danced and the icy fire jumped into the grey sky above him.

Just as the time when he was a child, a man appeared in the circle, wearing only torn trousers and his skin a corpse-like grey. A sharp-toothed grin was on the man's face that fell as soon as he caught eyes of Ned.

"You are the king now," his accented voice rasped in a tone that dripped confusion, "What has happened to make the second son King in the North?"

Rather than argue with the Defender that he was no king, he hastily summed up recent events. Lyanna's kidnapping, Brandon and Father's deaths, and the war Robert had declared against the Mad King. Through the whole of the rushed tale, the Defender listened with an ever-deepening scowl and when Ned had finished, the frightening being took a step out of the circle.

"Call your banners, Stark. I will go to find your sister and gain you allies," the Defender growled. Ned had nodded, not questioning the nightmare of his house, especially not when the Defender had taken off at a run that would put the fastest horses to shame, easily clearing obstacles in his path.

The war was ended not three months from that day, tales of the Stark's demon traveling far and wide across Westeros and disheartening the men in houses that still fought for the Targaryens. The fact that House Lannister was helping the Starks after the North's Defender had raided Casterly Rock and threatened Lord Tywin personally should the man not have taken action had done nothing but boost the cause of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark.

When Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, and Tywin Lannister sacked King's Landing, it was The Defender who ripped out the Mad King's throat with his predatory teeth. At the same time, it was also the Defender who had butchered Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch when he found them attempting to murder Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen. While it had been too late for Princess Ellia, the strange servant of the Starks advocated heavily on behalf of her children. His shouting match with the newly crowned King Robert had been something to behold.

("I won't let those mad dragon spawn here to see tomorrow!"

"Like fuck I'll let you will slaughter children, Baratheon!"

"That's treason, you bastard son of a whore!"

"What the hell gave you the idea that I give a flying fuck?!")

When word came that Lyanna was in Dorne, it had been the Defender who ran faster than the wind to the Tower of Joy. Ned was close behind, though by the time he arrived there were only two living beings there.

…

Well, three if one counted the Defender as alive, though Ned truly didn't.

If the shouting match for Rhaenys and Aegon had been a sight to behold, the one on behalf of one Jon Targaryen was a wonder of the world comparable to the Wall.

 **A/N: So, as a bit of a warning for those who wish to continue with this story, most of it may be anything that comes to mind for me in regards to my OC. The Defender is a very close replica of a character in an original story of mine, just adjusted to work with asoiaf. As such, I'll probably blast through chunks of exposition (like what I did here with Robert's Rebellion) while hyper-focusing on some aspects of his character and/or interactions with other characters. Please let me know if there is something in particular that you would like expanded upon as I might add in a chapter dedicated to it if it has something to do with the Defender specifically. Please feel free to review or PM with suggestions, as I am open to them.**

 **~Lizard-senpai**


	3. Chapter 3

**3: The Spirit Who Guided Children**

The North's Defender could remember a time before he had this human form, before he had been trapped in his prison if icy fire and bound to serve wolves. He could remember a time when he had been called Lirain, feared by all who had known him in battle and loyal only to his mistress. Such a time had been long since past, his mistress dead and buried universes away, but his memories of her were as sharp and clear as any other he had.

Stark women always had a dreadful way of bringing forth memories of his mistress, their wolf's blood making them unruly and wild but still pale in comparison to his mistress. Despite this, he liked reminders of her wherever he could find them, and so the Defender always came when a woman of Stark blood called him. He never made them spill blood as he did when the King in the North saw fit to use his powers, he would simply appear to them in his form from long ago. He liked the look of their spirits, the fire and primal instinct that lurked beneath the icy magic in theri souls.

When Arya Stark was born and was finally asleep in her crib, all the world was silent. Nursemaids and her parents were all asleep, exhausted from the rambunctious child. It gave him a perfect opportunity to visit the child whose spirit so much mimicked his mistress. In the form that those in Westeros would liken to a shadowcat, he crept in through a window and gazed upon the child. She looked like her father, unlike her two older siblings whom he held little interest for.

He did not dislike them, he quite liked children as a matter of principal, but they were nothing special to him. They were not kissed by fate like their cousin, the little dragon. Their spirits weren't wild and if spirit guides had forms in Westeros like they had in his mistress' land, theirs would both hold human forms. No, Arya was of much more value to the Defender. Little Arya's would be an animal, of that the Defender had little doubt. A carnivorous one too, if he had to bet. The child had the feel of one with the Sight, and that brought hope to the Defender's heart. If she did have the Sight then perhaps...

The child had woken a bit, fussing, and he had smiled down at her, leaning his head so he could nuzzle her soft cheek. She giggled and pulled at his ear, her grip quite mighty for such a small being. He laughed again and disappeared, sensing the nursemaid coming to check on the babe. Back in the cold fire of his prison, he smiled.

Perhaps Arya Stark might just be the one who could free him.

 **What's this? I'm not dead? Wow. So, yeah. Here is a chapter. I started writing again because I got inspiration for the original work this character is from. I might keep writing, I might not. It kinda depends on whether or not people take a true interest and if I stay inspired to write the original story. As always, feel free to review and I hope you enjoyed.**

 **~Lizard-senpai**


	4. Update

AN UPADATE FOR ALL OF MY FICS:

I have decided that I'm going to give up writing fanfiction in favour of focusing on my original works. I still enjoy writing fanfiction, but I don't really have the time nor energy to focus on all the projects here. On top of that, my writing style has changed drastically as of late, and keeps evolving at a very fast pace. Since I'm generally slow to update, there tend to be gaps between my style that are caused by how long it's been since I've written a story.

This isn't saying that I'm completely giving up on writing fanfiction, since I might update things sporadically/as the mood strikes me, but I am giving the warning that I might in the future.

Thank you for your support of these stories. It really means a lot to me.

~Lizard-senpai


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